A Blinding Humanity
by threeletterwords
Summary: My take on post LA apocalypse, amid which, Spike is forced to sire Buffy. The result? A quest for a soul, and a seriously ticked off Angel. Rated T for mild language, sexual themes, and violence. And of course, Spuffy galore.


A/N~ Hi there spuffy fans. What's new? So this, is my take on the classic, 'what if Buffy were a vampire' thing, and I _had_ to have Spike siring her. If there is any interest in this story, I will continue posting in about a month or so, once I've gotten a handle on my other three stories. I know. Yikes. Hopefully, it's not too cliche and ridiculous for you. Enjoy. :)

Disclaimer: Please. If I owned Buffy there would have been an eighth season. And a ninth... Naw, Joss whedon is the master of the universe in which I play. :)

"NO!" A piercing scream echoed across the battle field, resonating painfully in each of the soldiers ears. Messy tears streamed down his face, and he pushed through the mess of people roughly, handling them with unnecessary force, disregarding anything in the world aside from his girl.

Noise seemed to drain away.

All he could hear was the soft exhale that came from her as she fell.

All he could see was her eyes.

He choked on a sob as he tumbled out of the thatch of people, leaving the thick presence of death and blood and fear, and facing his own.

He could not physically bear it if she died again. Oh god... she was his everything. He had only just gotten her back. Hadn't even seen her smile. She hadn't even...

The sobs were renewed as wild thoughts rampaged through his head. There could be so many things she'd never do. He had to get to her, had to save her. He crashed to the ground at her side, gathering her in his arms, propping her head up against his leg.

"Buffy, buffy... oh god. shhhh. No, I'm here. Please. Damn it, look at me pet."

Her glazed eyes swiveled to gaze at him, and he shot her a watery smile. He placed frantic hands to the wound, watching in horror as thick red liquid spilled through his fingers. He couldn't fathom a life without this girl, this beacon in his world of endless darkness. He needed her. A place in his chest constricted at the thought of having his anchor-his reason for living... his girl torn away. He shuddered deeply as another sob threatened. And she... oh god, she looked confused. It broke his heart to see her strength stripped from her.

"Spike? Spike is that-" She gasped, as the pain she must be feeling reached her through the haze. He clutched her to his chest and rocked her gently.

"That's right, I'm here love. Just hold on." He cried into her hair quietly, grimacing at her pain.

Her eyes darted around, her gaze suddenly frightened.

"Spike, what's happening... William?" The soft question in her voice broke his heart.

"Buffy, pet, you just got... hurt. But I'm here, I'll save you, you know I will." She smiled faintly.

"I'm ha... hallucinating. Aren't I?" He shook his head jerkily, momentarily confused.

"No, no lamb. I'm here. Can't you feel me?" He placed his hand on her heart and she sighed in contentment.

"No. No, you're gone. Every time I see you, you... you go away. I never..." She paused to take another labored breath.

"I dreamed of you." His face crumpled at her confession. So maybe she did love him after all. Maybe she had spared him a fleeting thought. Maybe...

"Pet. Buffy? I'm really here. And I'm going to make you better."

The internal struggle raged in his head, but he pushed it aside. He knew. There was a settling of perfect clarity as he realized what he must do. He propped her further up into a sitting position, leaning against his chest. She let out a little moan of disproval and he sighed. He couldn't see her in pain.

"Spike. I missed you. You... asshole... you left me... just after... I fell in love... with you..." He closed his eyes, held her tighter, and whispered.

"Love? I can't let you go." She glanced up, bewildered.

"What?"

"I have to... I have to turn you." Before he could register her expression, or change his mind, he summoned all the rage he felt for whatever bastard skewered his slayer, and shook his head, morphing into the fangs, animalistic brow shadowing piercing yellow eyes... letting loose his demon. he growled low in the back of his throat, and closed his eyes, pulling her head aside gently to leave exposed neck. Without any further thought, he leaned down, and pierced the expanse of creamy white skin with his fangs. Sinking his teeth into her neck and the pulsing life force that flowed there. He felt a startled pang at the noise of discomfort she let out as he ripped through flesh and blood. He wasn't used to guilt when he fed.

He couldn't believe the taste of her. He'd smelled it time and time again. Her scent had enveloped him so completely... he loved her so deeply. Now... to be buried inside her... he never imagined he'd be able to taste her like _this_. Siring someone was almost sexual. It was powerful. He hated the flare of pride he felt at being her sire. Hated the enjoyment he felt at the process. And yet... she wasn't protesting anymore. He could smell the fear replaced with longing. Desire. This was always the process. They always wanted it. But with Buffy... some connection had formed years ago. Now they were blood. It was the most powerful experience... her blood flowing down his throat. Her hands on him, fisting the fabric of his jacket... He was drowning in her. Her eyes, her body, that intoxicating aroma. This would be something lasting... the eternal bond. Death and life twisting and forming something new. And it was him... him who got to taste her. change her. Be inside her. And then he pulled away, gazing into her soul through the remaining haze of bloodlust and... regular lust. She stared back through heavily lidded eyes. They needed no words. This experience was instinctual. Primal. he pulled a knife from his belt, cut along his own neck, then threw it aside, pulling her head roughly to the crook of his neck. She paused for a moment, then sucked at the flesh there, latching on, and greedily drinking. He gasped and held onto her waist as she lapped up his blood, her hands on his chest. He felt her so deeply in his soul. Could feel her becoming his. There was a heavy fog of death and blood, dense in the air around them. His eyes rolled back in his head as she drank, her tongue sweeping across his skin. She collapsed in his arms after another minute, and Spike breathed heavily, her still form still in his arms. The magnitude of what he'd just done hit him after a moment. He'd turned Buffy the vampire slayer... into a vampire. And a soulless one. His Buffy might not even be his anymore. Panic clouded his mind, and he picked up her body, cradling her gently to him, and glancing around. He let out a short chuckle. He'd sired her just outside of a full on battle. In an alleyway. Like him and Angelus before him had been. And then he focused on that. Sired. He had sired her. He was her sire. She was irrevocably his. Even more so than before. 5 years ago he would've bragged about his prowess and great power. Now, he could only face the fact that he had saved the woman he loved. And in doing so... killed her. Through the unwanted pride and happiness that came at her... creation, the panic nagged at him. He squinted back at the battlefield. If he could find the forehead... he spotted him with Illyria at the side of a building, in battle with five nasty looking demons. He decided to leave them be for now, and find a safe place for Buffy to wake up. It would be a good 24 hours until she awoke though. He frowned. He could use her fighting skills. He wondered if she would still have her slayer abilities on top of her vampiric ones. She would be right hard to beat if that were the case. Spike ducked out of the alleyway, still holding Buffy against him, and began a search for somewhere small and abandoned. He felt like a bloody hypocrite, leaving the others alone in battle. He hadn't even known Buffy would be coming. No one had bothered to let him know. He'd caught her scent in a rush of wind, had looked back just in time to see her get stabbed through the chest. God... he'd never be able to get rid of that image. Even now it haunted him.

"Spike!" He turned abruptly to see the great poof running towards him, coat flaring out behind him, a concerned look on his face. He cast a glance up at the sky. _Wish me luck here._

Spike held Buffy even closer to his chest. He needed to be with her, and protect her as best he could. Angel finally arrived next to them and reached out for her. Spike pulled away, hugging her tightly.

"No." Angel shook his head, seemingly trying to shake thoughts away.

"Spike. What the hell is going on?" He cringed, and glanced down at his girl. She was so pale. He stroked her face gently, and Angel grimaced at him.

"Spike. Is she okay? Is she..."

"She's dead." Angel's face registered pure shock. Then fear. Then pain. Then disbelief.

"She can't be. No... Buffy? Buffy, wake up. Wake up dammit!" Spike held up a hand to stop his rambling plea, his own face crumpling at what he'd done.

"She was dying... I had to. I had to save her. I couldn't let her..." A terrified recognition reached Angel's face.

"You... you sired her?" A tear streamed down his face.

"I had to." Angel stumbled back.

"You had... no right. What the hell were you thinking? She won't have a soul Spike! Not everything will be dandy! She won't be capable of loving you again, you do understand that, right? She'll be an evil, soulless thing!" Spike flinched at the harsh words, reinforcing his internal fears.

"Angel..." Angel stopped at the use of his actual name.

"Angel, I can't live without her. Tried it. Didn't fancy it. I'm so in love with her I can't see straight. I couldn't let her die. Not like that." Angel paused. Momentarily speechless at the other vampires broken confession. Spike continued, salt water spilling down his cheeks, and onto her face as he fell to his knees.

"My Buffy. My... She was dying in my arms. I had to do something. We can get her a soul. Go through trials. Or-or curse her. Please forgive me. Please..."

Angel was about to fire off a retort about how he would never forgive him for taking Buffy away from him... but he realized Spike wasn't talking to him. He was rocking buffy back and forth. Burying his face in her hair, and keeping up the constant mantra of _forgive me, forgive me, forgive me_... It was heartbreaking. He couldn't, in good conscience, torture him further. Even if he'd formed an unbreakable bond of Sire and Childe with the woman he still loved.

"Spike?" He placed a hand uncertainly on the shoulder of the vampire who had always been different. Always had a blinding humanity. An unnatural love. A determination to rival Buffy herself. Spike was an anomaly among vampires. And a tiny part of him understood why he'd sired her. Hell, he would've done the same. Maybe it was just the fact that he hadn't been the one to do it... that in the end, it had been Spike to change her forever. To be her everything. He breathed deeply to rid his mind of those thoughts, turning his attention to the crying vampire... no. Crying man before him.


End file.
